


A Sunday Afternoon in July

by LittleRedRoseontheValley (TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns)



Category: My Two First Loves (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Regret, Unrequited Love, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns/pseuds/LittleRedRoseontheValley
Summary: A Sunday afternoon in July. It seems a lovely occasion for a wedding.
Relationships: Mason Jennings/Main Character (My Two First Loves), Noah Harris/Main Character (My Two First Loves)
Kudos: 20





	A Sunday Afternoon in July

A Sunday afternoon in July. It seems a lovely occasion for a wedding.

Of all the things Mason was planning to do this Summer, watching Emma marry someone else, was, not surprisingly, not on the list.

_It was just another Summer afternoon. Labour Day was still too far away for the two middle schoolers to think about it. They had spent the day running around the beach and Emma finally tired, plopping down on the sand and asking Mason to watch the sunset with her._

_“Do you think we’ll ever get married?” He said, suddenly, and then paused for a second. “Not to each other of course…”_

_He meant it; he did not want to marry Emma. Or maybe he did, he did not know. He was confused, and kind of stupid. His heart and head seemed to be at odds with each other, refusing to communicate, but battling for dominance all the same._

_Later, he would conclude that he was falling deeper and deeper in love with his oblivious best friend._

_Her chestnut hair blew softly in the breeze, eyes straight ahead, tongue falling out of her mouth in concentration._

_After an uncomfortable laughter, she responded: “Yeah, not the two of us, like, together, but I think so.” She took her eyes off of the reddening sea to look back at him. “Why do you ask?”_

_“Dunno.” He said. “Just curious, I guess.”_

He parked next to a field he did not quite recognize, but it should be the right place. There were quite a few cars in the lot, and a big white house sprawled in front of him, tastefully adorned with her late mother’s favourite flowers. He remembered Emma wanted to marry somewhere she could see the sky. A bed-and-breakfast in the country seemed quite befitting.

_I could’ve done better._

Mason checked his watch. Four-thirty in the afternoon. If the invitation was anything to go by, the ceremony was about to begin. He starts to think that maybe he should have stayed home. _Yes, I definitely should have stayed home._

As much as he hated to admit, the back garden was decorated very nicely, rows of chairs, white magnolias hanging overhead, a small platform that elevated the minster, and her soon to be husband.

 _Noah Harris._ He did not care for the other man, not ever since they first met in high school. Everything he touched soured, and Mason was somewhat embarrassed to admit that he hoped against hope that their relationship would sour quickly, too.

Alas, it did not. Noah cleaned his act nicely after he began dating Emma, just before leaving for college together, almost ten years ago, and they have been going steady ever since. It is ever unlikely for him to slip up now, so Mason’s rational side would argue for him to give up on the possibility. He was not a rational man.

He hid in one of the corners of the guest area, under the shadow of an acacia tree, acting as casual as he could manage, leaning against the rail of a rose pergola.

He was fine, and was going to be fine. _Right?_ He thought so, until the harpist started playing the Wedding March, and the girl of his dreams walked out the door he entered through only moments before.

He had to keep his mouth from falling open. Emma looked utterly beautiful. Her white dress flowing behind her, the back fairly open, and lacy sleeves long. The veil was covering her iron-curled hair.

Mason took a surreptitious sip from his flask, a flask he hid on his suit jacket pocket to help him go through this psychological torture. The whiskey was, so far, failing to heal a broken heart, but he could still try to numb the pain.

_The Homecoming Dance was well on its way. The night was almost over and the last dance with the band belonged to the Homecoming Court and their dates._

_Mason, of course, was elected Homecoming King. It was only to be expected of the championship quarterback. Emma, despite her position as co-captain of the cheer squad, was never peak popularity at school, and her shut-off during her mother’s illness did not contribute towards her social standing, and therefore was not even in the running for any position._

_He was glad, however, that he managed to convince the committee that it would be a better look for the dance if the King and Queen danced with their dates instead of each other. There was no-one else he would have rather danced with other than Emma, and the fact that the Queen turned out to be Lauren made it not even a competition._

_“Why you’re so scared?” He asked, slack-jawed. “You’re a cheerleader.”_

_“Cheerleading is different from ballroom dancing.” She mumbled. “I’m afraid I’ll trip and embarrass the both of us.”_

_“You’re fine, I swear. I’m here, I won’t let you fall, I’ve got you.” He said calmingly to a disgruntled and nervous Emma._

_He was right, the whole night he never left her side, holding her close to his chest when dancing smelling her strawberry shampoo. Struggling to avoiding the urge to kiss his friend of as far back as his memory could go._

The feelings were rushing up, every memory, every late night in her kitchen, baking chocolate chip cookies, or at his bedroom, watching some rom-com for the umpteenth time. Seeing her cheering from the side-lines while he played football. Every embrace, her touch, even a brush of her fingers on his arm. His head in her lap while she brushed the hair of his forehead. Her soft voice while she played the piano. Even after they left school, their homes still on the same street, stopping by “just because”, sending random messages to cheer him up and always succeeding.

A tear slipped from his eye. _Get it together_. He hated to admit that only hours ago he was planning on telling her how he felt, on her wedding day. Where would they go, how long they would hide out from the rest of the world. Who was he becoming? Was he that selfish? He could not do it now, now that he saw her face, a smile plastered on it as tears of her own ran down.

He preferred living with the doubt.

“Emma Price, do you take this man to be your husband?” The minister’s voice broke Mason out of his reverie.

“I do!” Her voice was as sweet as it had always been, but his heart shattered, and he could feel himself sweating under the black suit. _She was really gone_.

“I declare you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The painful evening continued slowly, as dinner was served and time seemed to just stand still, the sun dragging its feet before it could set.

Just when he thought it would not get worse, the music soared and the newlyweds started dancing about. There were small fairy lights illuminating the garden now that the sky had fallen blue, bouncing off the couple’s faces.

Ava was swaying softly to the side, seemingly glad to be by herself. Mackenzie was dancing with her boyfriend, and Mr. Price was at the bridal party’s table, discreetly wiping off his tears.

Mason, however, took no note of any of them. He stared firmly at Emma and desperately wished he were the man holding her, kissing her, but he was not, not in the slightest. He was just alone, standing depressingly in the corner.

When he finally had enough, he headed out to the front to drive away. He was halfway through the lawn when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Mason, wait up!” Her voice rang in his ears

High heels and gravel did not mix to well. When she started to wobble, he steadied Emma before she fell.

“Emma!” He said in a high pitch, concerned with her lack of equilibrium. As his voice returned to its normal volume, he continued, “Congratulations on the wedding. You look lovely.”

Before he could protest, she pulled him into a warm hug and for a moment he forgot that he had just watched her get married.

“Thank you so much for coming.” She whispered warmly against his ear. “Going home early, are you?”

He smiled, humoured.

“Thank you for inviting me. It was a beautiful party, and yeah, I have work in the morning.” He said, reassuringly

“Oh, yes! The big shot lawyer must have a big case.” A small silence befell them at that moment. “Well, I’ll see you then? After I come back from my honeymoon?”

“Yes, of course.” He nods. “Enjoy your night. You deserve it.”

Emma nodded and turned away, returning to the party that waited for her.

Turning the key on the ignition and driving home, Mason knew he could not stay any longer. Not when he wished so badly to be her husband.

Soon enough, he was right back into his lonely flat. Tears began to fall down his face again, one after the other. He ripped off his suit jacket and tried to wash his face with cold water, but it did not change the fact he missed his chances, and so, so many of them. Twenty-three years’ worth of chances.

However, she was happy, and that is all he could ever hope for. He just wished she was happy with him.


End file.
